Other Side of the Glass
by HaiJu
Summary: Mom's smarter than I'll ever be. It had to happen sooner or later…and now it's sooner. Who was I kidding? How could I keep it secret from her?Twoshot, complete. Companion piece to Phantom of Truth.
1. Chapter 1

_The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable. _

_- James A. Garfield_

* * *

The clank of the tether activating jerks me out of sleep. I groan, knowing it will take me ages to fall asleep again. I let it pull me across the floor; it takes too much energy to stand up. Maybe I can't now. I haven't tried in a while. I'm so freakin' tired.

I feel the table rise under me like the world's slowest and scariest elevator. I wait for the cuffs to constrict around my wrists, trapping me flat on my back. I can't even work up the energy to get nervous. It doesn't matter what Mom does. I'm probably dead anyway. Can't she just let me sleep?

But nothing happens. That's weird enough to break me out of the nice unthinking haze I've been in all day. I hear the hiss of the glass wall sinking into the floor, feel the cool air from the lab-inside it's always stifling-wash over me, but no cuffs on my hands. Just my legs are pinned. Is it broken?

I start and realize Mom's already right next to me. She's wearing her hazmat suit again, but not the lab coat. Her arm's finally out of the sling, that's good at least. I still feel a twinge of guilt remembering. Seeing her lying on the floor bloody and unconscious, that scared me more than anything else that's happened in this messed-up place.

"Can you sit up?"

The soft question makes me nervous. Something's off. This isn't the usual Maddie Fenton, that's for sure. There's a glaring lack of weapons of ghostly destruction for a start. She keeps glancing up at me, and then looking away when she sees I'm looking back.

"Yeah," I say finally, and to my own surprise I'm right. I can sit up, barely. It wears me out, though, and I have to rest against my knees and fight the dizziness I get from just that much effort. But I'm up. Danny Phantom, hero. Major accomplishment of the day: Sitting upright.

"What's going on?" Most of the surprises I've had lately ended in lots of painful pain, so I stay suspicious.

"We're going to have a talk."

"A talk?" I almost find that funny. What, did she find out I broke curfew the night before I got caught? I'd give anything for this to be one of those boring lectures back home.

"Today there will be no experiments, no tests. I'm going to ask questions, and you're going to answer them...but only if you feel like it. I won't force you."

Now that? That's funny. "I thought you didn't believe ghosts could feel."

"I don't. But Phantom...you're not a ghost, are you?"

I actually laugh at that one, but my stomach drops to the floor. "What makes you say that?"

"You've said from the beginning that you were different."

"Not different enough, apparently." I can't help saying that bitterly. I thought maybe at first that I could get through to her somehow, even keeping my secret. I change looks, yeah, but not that much. The inside doesn't go away; I'm still the same person. Turns out she hates ghosts too much to even give me a chance. Not a fun thing to find out about your mom, that you're only a species change away from being on her hit list. Start glowing and floating and taking out baddies, and bam! No mercy.

"Do you remember how you died?"

"Yeah. Painful." Case in point. What a jerk thing to ask a ghost, you know? Nobody becomes a ghost who dies nicely. What did she think I'd say?

I glare at her, but she only nods thoughtfully, as if I'd confirmed some theory of hers. "Tell me."

Heck no. I was miserable enough without adding to my nightmares.

"What, tearing me up isn't good enough anymore? Now you want me to live through old trauma, too? You really are cruel."

But hey, why not? I'm just a ghost to her. I close my eyes. Maybe if I fall asleep I'd get away with not answering. Sleep would be easy. I'm so tired that most the time my eyelids feel like they have superglue holding them shut.

"You...may be right."

I'm right? That doesn't sound like Maddie Fenton.

The stomach-dropping feeling comes back; I sit up and really look at her. There's shadows under her eyes, and she's sitting ramrod straight with her feet close together, the way she does whenever she's uncomfortable. Mom's got her lower lip between her teeth and she's biting it hard enough to leave little teeth marks as she stares holes in the lab floor. Something's up. Still, she's too calm. If Mom knew, she'd be freaking out. But maybe...could she be hiding it? The thought sends cold stabs of fear into my mind.

"I may not deserve to hear it, but this is important. Please, tell me."

Please? Mom never uses please. Not with strangers. Definitely not with ghosts. Part of me wants to say no just to spite her; she really doesn't deserve it. But I need to know what she's thinking.

"I got zapped...electrocuted, I guess." Calling I don't know how many billions of volts deep-frying my entire body "electrocution" was like saying it got a little chilly in the Far Frozen, but that was more detail than I felt like getting into. "Worse than anything I've ever felt. Even..."

I can't finish the thought. Yeah, the lab accident hurt a lot, but at least I came out of it in one piece. At least I had no one to blame but myself. I shake myself out of that thought, rushing to get the memory over with.

"Nothing really compares to it. It was like getting burned and frozen and crushed and ripped apart all at the same time. I think I kind of blanked out at some point. I just remember being glad my friends weren't in there with me." I smile at her, though the expression feels pasted on my face. "Dying sucks. I don't recommend it. But it happened, and here I am."

"Here you are. But Phantom..." Mom pauses, studying me. "Ghosts don't feel their deaths."

Wasn't she listening just now? But no, here we go again. Mom trying to convince me that everything I feel is fake. Me bashing my head against her giant brick wall of stupid. I must be stupid too, because I find myself trying anyway.

"How do you know? How many ghosts have you talked to?"

"I don't have to, Phantom. It's pure science. When a human dies, the electrical signal generated by the brain resonates in the ectoplasmic matrix of the ghost zone and creates a new independent entity. That pattern is psychic, not physical. All that can be transferred is emotion and basic thought. That's why ghosts don't really understand pain. It's why you can never truly harm a ghost."

There she goes, technobabbling away any argument I have. I don't have a PhD; heck, I'm barely making it through high school. I have no idea how much she's saying is "backed by science" or whatever. I just know that she's wrong.

"Yeah, post-human consciousness, ectoplasm doesn't have nerve endings, I know already," I retort, irritated as much by my own complete failure to argue as her stubbornness. "Doesn't make it any better for me." That's the best I can come up with, and I know it's pathetic.

"But that doesn't apply to you, Phantom."

Just like that, I'm right back in that feeling between mortal terror and excitement. I see that look in her eye. Mom gets it in the lab just before she makes some kind of breakthrough in inventing. She knows something; she's just checking off facts now.

I swallow hard and focus on my knees, trying to stay casual. "Why do you say that?"

"You didn't describe to me why you died, what you were doing, but how. That's a physical context. Ghosts may know that they died horribly, but their account will invariably focus on the emotional significance."

She has me there. I never really thought about it, but it makes sense. I don't think I've ever heard a ghost tell me how they died without harping on the injustice of it all. I just thought it was an obsession thing.

"So...so what?" As usual my comeback is brilliant.

"What is a halfa?"

That gets my attention. Even Madeline Fenton can't miss such an obvious clue. Did I screw up somewhere? I must have said it. Why would I do something so stupid? "Where'd you hear that?"

Mom fingers the paper in her lap. "Your fight with the first ghost from the Fenton Containment Cube."

"Oh. Right." I feel like laughing again. It's that stupid no-name goon's fault. How did it take her so long to pick up on it? Not so obvious after all, I guess.

Mom pounces on my answer, leaning forward. "So you do know what it is."

She looks less nervous, more…eager. Whatever worried her is getting lost in solving the puzzle. Is that what I am? A puzzle? She can't really know then. Mom wouldn't be that…that cold, right?

"It's..." a lot of things. Figuring out exactly how I feel about that word would take more therapy than even Jazz could give me. I finally settle on "an insult."

"But it applies to you specifically," Mom said, looking even more excited.

So she's found out my zoological classification? Joy. "That's me. Practically unique. I have my own special slur."

"Halfa. Half of. Half-formed. You're not a completely ectoplasmic being, are you?"

I freeze, fingers tightening around my knees. She knows. She has to know. But something's weird. She should be scared, or sad, or even really mad like she got before, not this…this kinda uncomfortable satisfaction. She looks like a dog that's just dragged the turkey off the table and swallowed it whole. Ashamed, but still licking its chops.

Mom's waiting for an answer. Come on, genius. Stall her at least. "You said...I wouldn't have to answer if I didn't want to."

"I did. But I think I already know."

I knew it. I hold my breath, hoping I'm wrong, but I can see the gears turning in her head. Mom's smarter than I'll ever be. It had to happen sooner or later…and now it's sooner. I was kidding myself; how could I keep it secret from her?

"You have a body. A real, human one." If I had a heartbeat in this form it would be off the charts right now. I wipe my sweaty palm against my knee, watching as she twists the heck out of a scrap of paper. "You're not a ghost at all, are you? Danny."

It's the first time she's said my name—my real name—in weeks. Somehow I hadn't imagined it this terrifying. This is it. Holy crap, this is it. I'm so screwed. "So...so you know?"

Mom sighs; she's not looking at me. "I know."

* * *

_tbc..._

* * *

_A/N: _

_Probably a no-brainer, but this is a companion piece/former bonus chapter for **Phantom of Truth**. It's a retelling of the fifteenth chapter from Danny's perspective. I did this initially as an exercise for characterization, but since people liked it I'm posting it here as a twoshot. Why not a oneshot? Because I like it better in two parts. Enjoy!_

_-Hj_


	2. Chapter 2

_People do not lack strength; they lack will._

_- Victor Hugo_

* * *

I don't know what I expected when she finally found out, but this...this wasn't it. The knots in my stomach twist painfully. She looks sad. Uncomfortable. Disappointed. But that…that's it? Don't get me wrong, I didn't—don't!—want to hurt her. But I'm still her son, right? Shouldn't she care just a bit more?

"Okay, I...wow." Breathe, hero. I drag my fingers through my tangled hair, as if that would sort out the mess in my head. "Okay."

"You didn't want me to know?" Mom sounds hurt, like I've been holding out on her. Like I've been hoarding all these secrets just for the thrill of it, keeping her out of the fun. I feel a flash of irritation. There were reasons. Good reasons. I wasn't being selfish. I've been protecting her and Dad, I was protecting everybody.

Just keep telling yourself that, Fenturd.

"No! That's not, I-well, yeah, I did. Eventually."

Eventually meaning probably never…but it wasn't like I hadn't planned on telling them. I just never got around to it. Stupid. Now the whole freakin' GIW is sitting back and watching. I bet they're popping popcorn.

"Just…not here. Not with them." I look at my hand, which is stick-thin and grimy with my own ectoplasm. I screwed up for real this time. "Not like this."

"I'm so sorry, Danny."

I close my eyes, suddenly not caring quite so much that she's mad at me. It feels good to hear her say it. Not ghost, not Phantom. It's a small, stupid thing, but it washes over me like cool water. Danny. Just plain old, ordinary Danny. That's me. "I should have told you back then."

She shakes her head, sounding forlorn. "I should have seen it."

Maybe she'll ground me; the thought makes me smile. After this, I'm ready to sleep in my room for the rest of time. "That I'm half-ghost? How crazy is that, right? Nobody could just guess something that out there, not even you."

"It was the portal, wasn't it?"

My summer homework's still piled on my desk…not that I would have done it before the last week of summer anyway. I left a thermos with the Box Ghost still in it under the bed. Unless Sam and Tuck found it, it's still there. He's gonna be so mad when I let him out. "Yeah. I somehow made it work. From the inside."

"You mean you actually activated-" I nod, and Mom pales, tapping her fingers on her thigh like she does when she's thinking hard. I expect her to freak, again, but she just gets all thin-lipped with that little furrow between her eyebrows.

"This is all my fault."

What, that her stupid teenage son ignored all her warnings and lectures about the dangers of the technology in the basement just to show off? That by some random chance she and Dad had invented something that actually worked—the first thing in forever that did? That it happened to be the only device that would let me walk back out in one piece?

"It was a total accident."

Mom just shakes her head. "What were we thinking, building something so dangerous into our home?"

"That it was worth it to be near your family?" Mom and Dad lived and breathed inventing…doing that away from home would mean never being home. Jazz complained that this just meant they could "rationalize their workaholism", but I knew she liked it, too. It was nice to have them close.

"Was it worth this?"

I'm startled by the tone of her voice. She's so… I don't know. Dissatisfied. It's like I'm the worst case scenario. I guess it's true. What could be worse for a ghost hunter than having a half-ghost freak as a son? But man, that stings.

"I-I don't know." I stare at the floor, wishing I was anywhere else in the world but here. Where's Desiree when you actually need her? I could be a million miles away.

The silence builds, awkward and awful. Say something, genius.

"I..."

I'm sorry that I'm not the son you wanted? I'm sorry I'm a ghost? Because I'm not. I'm really not, and I won't say it, even if that's what she wants. I'm glad I got to be this way…even if getting into that accident was stupid. Being a halfa, that's been a good thing. I just have to make her see it. I take a breath and try again.

"I may not have been the best kind of hero. I messed up a lot. I did some stupid immature stuff, too. But I did help. I saved people who needed it. People who wouldn't have had anybody otherwise. Me, some random loser, I made a difference."

It's made a difference for me, too. I'm not some random loser anymore. I'm Danny Phantom. I'm even kinda cool, sometimes.

Mom's looking at me with a weird expression. I blush, rubbing my shoulder self-consciously. "That sounds kinda stupid now that I say it, but...I don't regret it. I'm not sorry."

"You shouldn't be sorry. It...it wasn't your fault." Those words should make me relieved, but her tone just makes me more uneasy. It's strange. I don't know why, but it is. Mom tries to laugh, but the smile seems stretched across her face. "You couldn't have found a better model for your psyche. My Danny's the sweetest, most responsible kid I know."

…model? Psyche?

"What?" I say blankly, stupidly.

"There...there have never been good methods for dealing with ectoplasmic waste. Experiments that have failed are usually reintroduced to the sub-dimension where they are expected to dissolve. Artificial specimens rarely have the stability to exist independent of the lab that created them. But in your case, you had a physiological structure that prevented that degradation. Long enough for you to resonate with the portal and return to the real world. Long enough for you to imprint from my son, and-"

"Wait, imprint?" I interrupt as what she's saying actually registers. Is she saying…is she wrong? Again?

"Yes," she responds impatiently. "A cadaver would lack the psychic element, that specific electric pattern that allows for sentience in an ectoplasmic entity. It wouldn't matter how much electricity was introduced, it could only have created a blank, an inanimate doll. Your form was incomplete without an ectosignature. The raw ectoplasm in your system was drawn to the first psychic signature it encountered, to the person who was in the lab when the portal activated. To...to my son. Your imprint. Danny Fenton."

I'm scrambling to make sense of what she's saying. What…an imprint? Ectosignature? Then it hits me. "A cadaver? You mean...like a corpse?"

This is incredible. It sucks. It's awesome. The Fenton family clueless disease strikes again. Tears sting in my eyes. She doesn't recognize me. At the same time a huge wave of relief washes over me. She doesn't recognize me. It's the most awful and wonderful thing all at once. I don't even know what to do anymore.

I want her to know. It's been so long since I've been anything but a ghost. It may be a stupid, little thing, but I just want her to call me Danny, and know it's me. But after all this... I never, ever want her to know. Just thinking about it, it's… I don't even want to imagine it. I'd rather bury my secret under a mountain of rock.

But that's the thing. She'll find out. I'm not waiting at home. I won't be there. But Jazz, or Tuck and Sam, they will. They'll know. Ghost hunter goes out of town, ghost vanishes. It doesn't take a genius to put those two together. It'll all come out, one way or another. And then what?

I'm so freakin' tired.

"Phantom..." the name catches my attention, and I look up at her. She's looking at me with the gentlest face I've seen in a while. I see the dark circles under her eyes, how she slouches in the chair, clenching her hands in her lap. She really is sorry. Even if she has it wrong, even if this is all she knows. I have to give her that much. "You know you're not my son, right?"

This is it. She's listening, waiting. All I have to do is spit it out. Surely it won't be as bad coming from me. Better than finding out afterward, anyway. The way things are, she'll leave me. Here. Alone. An experiment forever...or until this ghost body gives up. The awfulness of that idea makes the choice for me.

"Mom, I..." Her expression stops me cold.

It was just for a moment, but I saw it. Mom _winced_. She looked disgusted. She hated that I used that name; she really hated it.

I shut my mouth with a snap. No matter how nice Mom's been today, she still sees me as someone...something else. A fake. After all this, a ghost. And she's, like always, a ghost hunter.

I can't prove it. If I change back now, I'd probably die. Even if I did take the chance, she might just come up with another crazy theory. She'd call it an illusion. A trick. Another lie. It's kinda funny that most of the lies Mom believes about me she's told herself. All I've ever had to do is agree with her.

But she won't believe the truth. Not from this me. It's never gonna happen.

"I...of course not, Dr. Fenton. I know that."

Liar. Coward. Idiot.

I can't stop the terrible feeling that this is wrong and I'm just making it worse. But I'm not brave enough to try it. I'm so freaking tired.

* * *

_fin_

* * *

_A/N: And here's the other half. Now I'm gonna go back and hide in my comfort zone and NOT try anything like this again...concrit?_

_-Hj_


End file.
